Subject: Church Date

Middle of summer, about 2 years ago. Summer is a great time to be dating-- everyone has weddings and fourth of July parties and beach shindigs! If you’re not self-conscious (I’m not), you can wear a bathing suit and show off some curves without being accused of being “slutty.”

What you don’t know about me, David, is that I’m an atheist. Not a “get in your face atheist.” I don’t care what other people believe. But for me, I just don’t believe in a deity, and I don’t really spend a lot of time thinking about it.

Well…. Tom didn’t know that about me either.

I don’t even know why I agreed to go out with Tom, except that I’d recently moved here and didn’t know many people. I met him through work-- he’s in the mail room, which sounds as glamorous as it is. Tom delivers the mail to an office building containing about 300 people. When he’s not delivering mail, he does light janitorial stuff-- empty trash cans, take our shredding out, and so forth.

He’s not exactly an intellectual, but he was the first person to strike up a conversation with me at lunch, and he’s nice. He’s nice. Friendly, even.

Things I have learned about Tom:

1) He spent two years in prison for assault when he was 20 years old.

2) He is very, very heterosexual. I know this because after telling me about his prison time, he told me, emphatically, that he never did any “funny business” in jail.

3) He is a Christian.

I learned the last one during our utter failure of a date.

Now, I was hesitant to go on a date with someone who had demonstrated the capacity for violence, but I’d worked with Tom for about six months by then and he was more than just a gentleman. I’d seen how he handled people being jerks to him-- he was graceful without being a pushover. It was kind of refreshing, actually. He would stand there and listen for a while, and if the person didn’t let up, he held a hand up and said, very calmly “I’m sorry. If you have a complaint, you can take it to my supervisor. But I don’t have to listen to anyone talk to me this way.” And then he’d turn the mail cart and start walking away. Most people in the office-- keep in mind, some of these are big-shots in the local news scene and have national exposure-- just stood there for a moment, aghast, and then they’d kind of turn and walk away, too.

He had a calm demeanor, so I didn’t really fear for my safety or anything.

Anyway, he invited me to “a picnic.”

“What kind of picnic?” I’m hoping this isn’t going to get weird-- a picnic at the park is cool. A picnic on the beach is fun. A picnic in his living room is weird and creepy. For a first date, anyway.

“It’s a group of my friends-- we’re just having a shindig this Saturday. It’ll be fun, I promise.”

Well, this might be the first promise Tom has had to really break. I showed up (separate cars, remember!) I’d worn a pretty red sundress and sunglasses-- I remember because I was the only person in a dress. And I’d brought a bottle of chilled white wine and a box of cupcakes from the grocery store. Who doesn’t like cupcakes and wine?

When I walked up to the park, I was looking around for Tom, and somewhat disappointed not to see him. There was a large group of men milling around a few picnic tables, unpacking a bunch of coolers and setting up one of the public grills there. They were… not small men, if you understand my meaning? Big guys who were there to grill some serious meat!

I wandered around, still carrying my wine and cupcakes, and looking a little bit lost. Finally, I spotted Tom!

He was wearing a Hawaiian shirt and shorts, and for the first time I realized that he’s kind of portly himself. Not obese, but… he has a bit of “upholstery” on him. He came out from behind a behemoth of a man and made a beeline for me.

“Hey, glad you could make it! Uh--” he paused when he realized I’d brought wine and cupcakes, then took the cupcakes from my hands. How sweet, I thought-- how helpful.

We walked back over to the group, and one of them called for everyone’s attention.

“Thanks for coming out guys. It’s great to see some new faces--” he paused looking at me, and a kind of little frown crossed his face. “Uh, let’s get started so we can get to that grill!”

He then… I kid you not-- led us in prayer. Actual prayer. As I looked around at all the bowed heads before belatedly bowing my own, I realized two things about this picnic. First, this was a picnic of a church group. And second: the church group was a men’s group.

Need I mention that it was a dry party? I stuck the wine in my purse, where the top of it awkwardly poked out whenever I reached my hand forward to shake someone’s hand.

Once again, David. There was no second date.